herself because Saudi law forbids a woman to be in public unless she is accompaniedbyherbrother,fatherorhusband.
Theteenagerlefthismotherandtwosistersandsetoffonhisdirtbike,agiftforhislastbirthday fromhisdad.Keepingtothebackstreets,hedrovefasttoagroupofseasideofficeblocks,wherehe found his father ’s car alone in the parking lot. Only in a police state does a child pray for nothing more serious than a crippling accident to have befallen their parent. Beseeching Allah that the zoologistwaslyinginjuredinthedarkenedbuildingthathousedhisoffice,theboyapproachedthe
entrance.
APakistanisecurityguardstationedinanalcoveinthegloomyinteriorwasstartledwhenhesawa
boy’s face peering through the glass doors. Yelling in bad Arabic, he motioned the kid away, grabbingabillyclub,readytounlockthedoorsanduseitifhehadto.
Buttheboydidn’tflinch–callingbackdesperatelyinArabic,imploringthehelpoftheProphet, saying something about a missing father. It was only then that the guard realized the visit was connectedtotheeventthathadcausedatidalwaveofwhisperedgossipallafternoon.Hestaredatthe child’s drowning face – he was far too young to be clinging to such tiny hopes – and lowered the club. Maybe it was because he had kids of his own, but the tectonic plates of the guard’s universe shifted,andhedidsomethingtotallyoutofcharacter–hetookachance.
Withhisbackturnedtothesecuritycamerasmonitoringthedoors,gesticulatingasifshooinghim
away,hetoldtheboywhatlittleheknew:fourmembersofthestatepolice,ledbyacolonel,hadtaken hisfatherawayinhandcuffs.Accordingtotheirdriver–afellowPakistanitowhomhe’dtakenacup oftea–theyhadbeensecretlyinvestigatingthemanformonths.Butlistenclose,hesaid,thiswasthe importantpart:theyweretalkingaboutcharginghimwith‘corruptiononearth’,atermsobroadasto bemeaninglessexceptforonething.Itcarriedthedeathsentence.
‘Tellyourfamily,’thePakistanicontinued,‘they’llhavetoactfastifthey’regoingtosavehim.’
Withthathethrewthedoorsopenasifhe’dlostpatienceand,forthebenefitofthecameras,started swinging the billy club with a wild vengeance. The boy ran for the dirt bike and kicked it to life.
Caringnothingforhimself,hespedacrosstheparkinglot,nearlylostitinadriftofsandandflew throughthegates.
Thoughnoonewilleverknowforsure,Iimaginethat–mentally–hewasbeingtornintwo:asa
child,hedesperatelywantedthecomfortofhismotherbut,asaman,theheadofthehouseholdinhis father ’sabsence,heneededthecounselofothermen.Therewasonlyonewaythisconflictcouldbe resolved;hewasanArab,andthatmeanttwothousandyearsofbaggageaboutmalepride.Soitwas
inevitable that he would turn north, into the darkest part of the city, towards the house of his grandfather.
Evenashedrove,asenseofinformeddoomstartedtogrowuponhim.Heknewhisfatherwasas
good as locked in a cattle car being driven by state security and he realized it would take a huge amount of wasta to alter the course of that journey. In the absence of democracy and efficient bureaucracies, wasta isthewaytheArabworldworks;itmeansconnections,influence,awebofold favoursandtribalhistory.With wasta ,doors–eventopalaces–open.Withoutit,theyremainforever closed.
The boy had never thought about it before, but he saw now that his family, including his grandfather, whom he loved so dearly, were modest people: modest in ambition, modest in their connections.ForthemtoinfluencestatesecurityandhavewhatwasconsideredanattackontheHouse ofSauddismissedwouldbe…well,itwouldbeliketakingaknifetoanuclearwar.
Bytheendofthenight–afterthelongandclosedcounselsofhisuncles,grandfatherandcousins
hadfailedtoinitiateonesignificantphonecall–heknewhewasrightabouttheirchances.Butthat didn’tmeanthatanyofthemgaveup:forfivemonths,thefamily,closetocollapseunderthestress, triedtopenetratetheSaudigulagandfindonetinylifehiddeninitslabyrinth.
Andwhatdidtheygetfortheirtrouble?Noinformation,noassistancefromtheirgovernmentand
certainly no contact with the zoologist. Like the victims of 9/11, he had just gone to work one
Theteenagerlefthismotherandtwosistersandsetoffonhisdirtbike,agiftforhislastbirthday fromhisdad.Keepingtothebackstreets,hedrovefasttoagroupofseasideofficeblocks,wherehe found his father ’s car alone in the parking lot. Only in a police state does a child pray for nothing more serious than a crippling accident to have befallen their parent. Beseeching Allah that the zoologistwaslyinginjuredinthedarkenedbuildingthathousedhisoffice,theboyapproachedthe
entrance.
APakistanisecurityguardstationedinanalcoveinthegloomyinteriorwasstartledwhenhesawa
boy’s face peering through the glass doors. Yelling in bad Arabic, he motioned the kid away, grabbingabillyclub,readytounlockthedoorsanduseitifhehadto.
Buttheboydidn’tflinch–callingbackdesperatelyinArabic,imploringthehelpoftheProphet, saying something about a missing father. It was only then that the guard realized the visit was connectedtotheeventthathadcausedatidalwaveofwhisperedgossipallafternoon.Hestaredatthe child’s drowning face – he was far too young to be clinging to such tiny hopes – and lowered the club. Maybe it was because he had kids of his own, but the tectonic plates of the guard’s universe shifted,andhedidsomethingtotallyoutofcharacter–hetookachance.
Withhisbackturnedtothesecuritycamerasmonitoringthedoors,gesticulatingasifshooinghim
away,hetoldtheboywhatlittleheknew:fourmembersofthestatepolice,ledbyacolonel,hadtaken hisfatherawayinhandcuffs.Accordingtotheirdriver–afellowPakistanitowhomhe’dtakenacup oftea–theyhadbeensecretlyinvestigatingthemanformonths.Butlistenclose,hesaid,thiswasthe importantpart:theyweretalkingaboutcharginghimwith‘corruptiononearth’,atermsobroadasto bemeaninglessexceptforonething.Itcarriedthedeathsentence.
‘Tellyourfamily,’thePakistanicontinued,‘they’llhavetoactfastifthey’regoingtosavehim.’
Withthathethrewthedoorsopenasifhe’dlostpatienceand,forthebenefitofthecameras,started swinging the billy club with a wild vengeance. The boy ran for the dirt bike and kicked it to life.
Caringnothingforhimself,hespedacrosstheparkinglot,nearlylostitinadriftofsandandflew throughthegates.
Thoughnoonewilleverknowforsure,Iimaginethat–mentally–hewasbeingtornintwo:asa
child,hedesperatelywantedthecomfortofhismotherbut,asaman,theheadofthehouseholdinhis father ’sabsence,heneededthecounselofothermen.Therewasonlyonewaythisconflictcouldbe resolved;hewasanArab,andthatmeanttwothousandyearsofbaggageaboutmalepride.Soitwas
inevitable that he would turn north, into the darkest part of the city, towards the house of his grandfather.
Evenashedrove,asenseofinformeddoomstartedtogrowuponhim.Heknewhisfatherwasas
good as locked in a cattle car being driven by state security and he realized it would take a huge amount of wasta to alter the course of that journey. In the absence of democracy and efficient bureaucracies, wasta isthewaytheArabworldworks;itmeansconnections,influence,awebofold favoursandtribalhistory.With wasta ,doors–eventopalaces–open.Withoutit,theyremainforever closed.
The boy had never thought about it before, but he saw now that his family, including his grandfather, whom he loved so dearly, were modest people: modest in ambition, modest in their connections.ForthemtoinfluencestatesecurityandhavewhatwasconsideredanattackontheHouse ofSauddismissedwouldbe…well,itwouldbeliketakingaknifetoanuclearwar.
Bytheendofthenight–afterthelongandclosedcounselsofhisuncles,grandfatherandcousins
hadfailedtoinitiateonesignificantphonecall–heknewhewasrightabouttheirchances.Butthat didn’tmeanthatanyofthemgaveup:forfivemonths,thefamily,closetocollapseunderthestress, triedtopenetratetheSaudigulagandfindonetinylifehiddeninitslabyrinth.
Andwhatdidtheygetfortheirtrouble?Noinformation,noassistancefromtheirgovernmentand
certainly no contact with the zoologist. Like the victims of 9/11, he had just gone to work one
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